


Denial

by on_the_wing



Series: The Absence of Monsters [4]
Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Biting, Drunkenness, Exhibitionism, Feelings Oh Noes, Furtive Crying, Half-Hearted Internet Research, Indecent proposals, Knifeplay, M/M, Nicknames, Ok so knifeplay and biting are pretty much a given at this point, Public Sex, Sisterknives, That Was Not Nice, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 09:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6848779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/on_the_wing/pseuds/on_the_wing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Praxis is finding it increasingly difficult to keep this....thing with Deimos a secret. It would probably help if they didn’t have sex in the hallway. And he STILL doesn’t know what to call him, since they don’t have task names yet. How long does this shuttle take, anyway? AS LONG AS I WANT IT TO.</p><p>This might not make sense if you haven’t read the earlier stories in the series. But anyway, as usual, Praxis POV = past tense, Deimos POV = present tense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Denial

There was no way to hide all the bruises and bite marks on my neck. I had never been a turtleneck person, and they hadn’t issued our flight suits yet, just tank tops and jackets. I avoided Kasimir and Pavel at dinner by eating late and changing my training routine, but they caught me at breakfast the next morning.  
  
Kasimir whistled. “Looks like you found some honey after all. But you got stung for it.”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, staring at my plate and trying to force back a dopey smile. “Bees need flowers to make honey. Have you seen any flowers on this ship?”  
  
“Only orchids. And banana flowers.”  
  
“Huh?” I suddenly realized what he meant and blushed.  
  
“So tell us about it. Do the bee dance.”  
  
“The _what_?”  
  
Pavel grinned suddenly. “Come on, Kas, ease up. A gentleman never lifts and tells.”  
  
“I’m not telling you where to get what you are claiming I got. Because if I did get it, why would I want you going there too and…bothering the flower?”  
  
“Hey, we’re not poachers, we only want gossip about the flower.”  
  
“Or the bee,” said Pavel. “Didn’t he start out as a bee? Keep your metaphors straight, Kaska.”  
  
“I can’t even keep _myself_ straight, how am I supposed to do that with metaphors?”  
  
Pavel patted him on the arm. “Metaphors are easier. Stick with the bee, it works better. He’s little and cute and has big eyes and a sting.” He probably meant that last bit as a phallic reference, but I thought of the knife and suppressed a shiver.  
  
“You make him sound like a hobbit,” Kasimir complained. “He didn’t look like a hobbit.” He turns to me. “Did he have hairy feet?”  
  
“None of us have hairy feet now, remember? The soap?”  
  
“Oh, yeah. Well, did he have really big feet then? With calloused soles?”  
  
“You ask the weirdest questions.”  
  
“And you never answer them!”  
  
“What can I say, I’m a man of mystery.”  
  
“ _You’re_ not a man of mystery, he is. We don’t even know his name!”  
  
“You don’t know _my_ name, either.”  
  
“Yeah, but we pretty much know everything about you.”  
  
I raised my eyebrows. “Really.”  
  
Kasimir counted on his fingers. “You’re from Three, you went to Catholic school, you’re gay, you’re more or less sane, you’re on the rebound, you would be a nerd if you didn’t have killer delts…”  
  
“How did you know I went to Catholic school? And—the other thing?”  
  
“Honey, it’s just obvious. Besides, most Threes are Catholic. I think they did that on purpose, because of the Trinity.”  
  
Pavel snorted quietly. “And we’re all nerds here. This is the nerd table. You make good camouflage because you look like a jock.”  
  
“Doesn’t playing sports make you a jock?” At least they’re not talking about my new friend anymore.  
  
“Making distinctions like that makes you a nerd.”  
  
“I don’t know about that.”  
  
“Definitely a nerd,” Pavel pronounced. “Jocks never admit they don’t know anything.”  
  
“Unless they’re trying to get you to do their homework for them,” Kasimir said.  
  
“No, then they just say they’re too busy.”  
  
“Oh, true.”  
  
“Would you really do someone’s homework for them?” I asked in shocked fascination.  
  
“I did it all the time,” said Kasimir. “I charged for it. Their choice of sex or money. There were a _lot_ of cheapskates on the hockey team, let me tell you.”  
  
Pavel rolled his eyes. “I did it for Vasili Burkov hoping he would like me. Stupid.”  
  
“See, you have to charge up front. They’re never going to pay up on their own initiative.”  
  
“Wouldn’t it be obvious that it wasn’t them who did the homework, though?” I asked.  
  
“The teachers don’t care, they just want them to turn something in. You just have to make enough mistakes so it isn’t totally obvious. It can be really fun writing an essay on Hamlet in dudebro language, though.”  
  
I laughed, then caught sight of something blue in my peripheral vision and snapped to attention. Kasimir and Pavel instantly craned around to look. Halfway across the cafeteria, Blue Streaks narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth, snorted dismissively, and kept walking. I didn’t see anyone with him. I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or disappointed about that.  
  
“Well!” said Kasimir. “What was _that_?”  
  
“A simian threat display,” I said.  
  
Pavel snorted.  
  
“ _Who_ was that?” Kasimir asked.  
  
“I don’t know. Some monkey.”  
  
“How do you know this monkey?”  
  
“I don’t, really.”  
  
Pavel said carefully, “By any chance, does your new friend know this monkey?”  
  
I whipped my head around to stare at him, then relented. “Hypothetically speaking, maybe. If I had a new friend, he might know that monkey.”  
  
“Aha,” Kasimir said. “So you’re poaching on his territory.”  
  
“People are not territory,” I snapped. “Besides, he already didn’t like me because I wouldn’t put up with his bullshit.”  
  
“What kind of bullshit?”  
  
“I’m surprised you haven’t heard it already, he’s been spreading it all over the place. Territory, basically. He’s decided in advance that his navigator is going to be his property and he’s going around ordering the rest of us not to talk to him or look at him or anything. And he’s going to put a _scar_ on him so we all know which one to avoid.”  
  
“Well, they _do_ all look alike,” Kasimir quipped.  
  
Pavel elbowed him. “Seriously, though, you should be careful. With the monkey _and_ with your…friend. I saw him pull a knife on someone last week.”  
  
“You did?” I felt obscurely hurt. “Well, I guess he does that to a lot of people.”  
  
“Are you _jealous_?” Kasimir asked in fascination.  
  
“Uhhh…”  
  
“Did he do that to _you_?”  
  
“I am not answering any more questions for your tabloid.”  
  
“You hardly answered any at all!”  
  
“This is not a court of law.”  
  
“You are not any fun.”  
  
“Sometimes I am.”  
  
“Ooh. When?”  
  
“No comment.”  
  
“Maybe we’ll have to ask Mr. E instead.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Your friend. He needs a name. Now he has one.”  
  
“You gave _him_ a name but not me?”  
  
“I’ll tell you _your_ name if you tell us details.”  
  
“So I do have a name?”  
  
“Maybe. Maybe a few.”  
  
I narrowed my eyes. “Do I really want to know what it is if it’s something you haven’t already told me?”  
  
Pavel coughed. Kasimir just smirked.  
  
“Anyway I don’t think he’d like me talking about him. So no. And don’t bother him, either.”  
  
“Aww, okay. I wouldn’t want to make you jealous by getting my throat slit.”  
  
I snorted in spite of myself. So did Pavel.  
  
  
***

  
I’m waiting for him when he gets back to his room, sprawled across his bunk leaning on one elbow, one booted foot up on the bed and the other on the floor. I flip Galya open and grin at him.  
  
Marsh stops short when he sees me, then carefully approaches and gazes down at me. “How did you get in?”  
  
“Magic,” I whisper.  
  
He gives me a reproachful look.  
  
“All right, so I looked when you were typing in your password yesterday.”  
  
“I should be creeped out but I’m really, um…”  
  
I sit up and run Galya over his crotch. “I can tell.”  
  
He pants and grabs at the upper bunk for balance, closing his eyes. I cup his ass with my other hand, and twist the blade so he can feel a suggestion of edge. He whines shamelessly.  
  
“You are such a slut for my knives.”  
  
He takes a shallow, shuddering breath.  
  
“Aren’t you.”  
  
I squeeze his ass, pressing in with the flat of the blade, and he gasps out, “Yes.”  
  
I drag Galya’s point upward along his inner thigh, stopping just before the place where it meets his groin. He leans in a little, but stops just before she actually draws blood. She whines in frustration. Poor thing.  
  
“It’s not just the knives, though,” he says earnestly. “It’s mainly you. They’re just a bonus.”  
  
I smile. “You are _so_ sweet.” I undo his pants and shove them down unceremoniously, underwear and all. “I bet you’re salty, too.” I bend my head down to test my hypothesis.  
  
“Ohmygod,” he moans from somewhere up in the stratosphere. “Ohsweetjesus. How did I get so lucky. Did I just say that out loud?”  
  
“Mm hmm,” I confirm with my mouth full.  
  
“Oh, _oh_ that feels so good, _fuck_ yes, ohhh, um. I—I wanna say your name. Or—whatever you want me to call you. What do you want me to call you?”  
  
I take my time about answering. He doesn’t complain, which is not surprising. “Hmm. I’ll have to think about that. Wait—didn’t I say we should do this in my room next time?”  
  
Marsh stares down at me, panting and uncomprehending. “Uh…yes?”  
  
I vault to my feet and sprint to the door. “Well let’s go then!”  
  
He lets go of the upper bunk and staggers toward me like a monster from an old Earth movie.  
  
“You might want to pull your pants up first,” I offer helpfully.  
  
  
***

  
I tugged my pants up and closed them with difficulty, then followed him out the door.  
  
“Catch me if you can!” he said brightly, almost at a normal volume, and bolted away laughing.  
  
“Shit,” I muttered, and took off after him. _Everyone is going to see me like this. Everyone. Maybe I could’ve…taken my jacket off and held it in front of me? Or something? I can’t do that when I’m running though._  
  
I came to a fork and listened for footsteps. A flash of black appeared from the right and I lunged toward it, only to find a startled stranger. Muffled giggling came from the left fork behind me, and I spun on my heel and launched myself toward it. I rounded the corner and saw his round little ass working away as he sprinted down the corridor. And those neat shapely shoulders just right for grabbing, mmm. _This is not helping with my pants problem_. “Come back here!” I bellowed.  
  
He disappeared around another corner, to the right this time. Once I made it around, I ran straight into a group of guys and nearly knocked two of them down. Once I had finished apologizing and managed to duck around them, he was gone.  
  
“Fuck,” I said out loud. _Okay, think, self. There must be some blood left in your brain. He’s…probably from Five, right? Or Four? That’s where most of the Russians come from. At least the ones who are likely to use knives. Probably from Five if he’s tight with that monkey from Five. The room numbers fill up in chronological order, not randomly, and Five is the last place we picked up people, so just go to the place with the highest occupied numbers and start looking there. Okay. Okay, we have a plan._  
  
I tried to steady my breathing, but my legs had other plans and took off running, noting room numbers as I went. _I can’t believe he did this to me. Well maybe I can. When I catch him I am going to—_  
  
I rounded a corner and ran right into someone AGAIN. He toppled over, grabbing hold of me, and I came down hard on my hands and knees in an effort not to collapse on top of him. “Sorry, sorry,” I babbled, and then realized it was Kasimir. He looked more amused than annoyed.  
  
I scrambled to my feet and offered him a hand up.  
  
“Normally people buy me a drink before they throw me down on the floor,” he drawled.  
  
“SORRY. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” I scanned the hallway in case my quarry had decided to make an appearance again.  
  
Kasimir looked me up and down, raising an eyebrow. “What exactly are you doing out here?”  
  
“Playing hide and seek,” I gritted, shifting from foot to foot.  
  
“Are you always this excited about hide and seek?”  
  
“I DON’T KNOW. I’ve never played this kind before.”  
  
“What are the rules?”  
  
“I’m not sure, but it seems to involve giving me half a blowjob and then running away laughing.” _Oh shit, why did I say that? I have no brain right now._  
  
“Oh my.” His eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline.  
  
“I’m supposed to find his room but I don’t know where it _is_.”  
  
“Well that’s not very nice.”  
  
“Yeah well, whatever.” I bounced on my toes, and started to edge around him.  
  
He blocked me, reaching a hand up to stroke my arm. “Well, I don’t know where _his_ room is, but _my_ room is right over there…if you want me to finish what he started.”  
  
I stared at him, paralyzed, for what must have been a full five seconds. “What? No! What would Pavel think?” The horrible thing was that my dick seemed to think it was a good idea.  
  
“Pavel would be happy for me. And for you.”  
  
I stared at him again, then shook my head. “No. You did not just say that. I have to go. Where do the Colony Five room numbers start, do you know?”  
  
Before he could answer, a sleek head peeked around the corner and grinned at me. “There you are!” I muttered, and dodged around Kasimir to chase after him.

I caught him at a dead end two turns later, and threw him up against the wall, kissing him hard. He was still laughing.  
  
“You little tease.” I felt around through his shirt and pinched his nipple. He gasped, but still looked smug. “What should I do with you now that I have you?”  
  
“Well, you should come to my room, first of all.”  
  
“Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I want to fuck you right here. Since you already made a public spectacle of me. I think that’s fair, don’t you?”  
  
He licked his lips.  
  
“Or that. Get down on your knees.” _How did I become this person?_  
  
He dropped down instantly, and I was amazed. I’d been half expecting him to laugh at me again, or pull a knife.  
  
“I really hope this is going to be good,” I told him, undoing my pants. “Considering what you put me through to get it.”  
  
He gave me a dangerous smile, and reached in to pull out my—problem. “Don’t worry. You liked it the first time, didn’t you?” His tongue slid across the head, and then his lips closed over it, soft and wet and strong.  
  
“Yes—ohhhh. Yeah. Yeah. I did. I do. Fuck.” I spread my feet wider to give him easier access, and he rewarded me by diving down until I swear I hit the back of his throat. “ _FUCK_. Oh god. Oh fuck yeah. That’s so hot. _So_ hot.” I ran my fingers through his hair, and his hand reached around and kneaded my ass through my pants, encouraging me to thrust forward into his mouth. He moaned around my cock and I almost came right then. I had to close my eyes for a moment and breathe slowly.  
  
He pulled his mouth off and began licking slow strokes up and down the shaft. I leaned my forehead against the wall so I could keep both hands in his hair. I was making undignified high-pitched sounds and it occurred to me that he had somehow got all the power back again. Which is probably why he agreed to this. Little bastard.  
  
I reluctantly removed my hands from his hair and braced them against the wall for balance, then rubbed my leg between his. He whined and thrust against it frantically, swallowing me down again and digging his nails into my ass and thigh. “You’re getting off on this,” I panted.  
  
He didn’t answer, at least not in words.  
  
I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled my leg away. He made a muffled noise of protest, mouth still full of my cock. “Oh, you want it back? Ask for it.”  
  
He made one more plaintive noise, then pulled loose and whispered, looking up at me with those big pretty eyes, “Bring your leg back? Please?”  
  
I immediately melted. “Aww baby, of course.”  
  
His eyes narrowed for a fraction for a second, but then my leg was back between his, and he sighed happily and undid his pants before rutting up against it. I hadn’t meant him to go that far, but I didn’t have the heart to stop him, even if it meant I’d be going back to my room with his come all over my pant leg. _Actually,_ I reflected, _that’s kind of hot_. Or maybe everything was hot right then, because his mouth was back around me, and he was making a kind of cheerful humming moan that made me gasp and clutch at his head.  
  
“Do you want to come this way?’ I whispered. “Or should we stop? I don’t know if I can wait for you to catch up, I’m so close.”  
  
“Hmmm,” he hummed. He let go with a final sweet lick and rested his head against my hip, still moving slowly against me. I leaned one forearm against the wall and stroked his hair, rubbing him with my leg. He turned his head and sucked my fingers into his mouth.  
  
I smiled. “You like having things in your mouth?”  
  
He nodded.  
  
“I like— _ohh_. I like your mouth. I like all of you.”  
  
He bit me.  
  
“Ow! What the hell?”  
  
“Sometimes I bite.”  
  
“Should I be afraid for my, uh…”  
  
He gave me a feral grin. “Maybe.”  
  
“Oh god, why is that hot?” I moaned. I picked up my cock and rubbed it against his cheek. He rolled his face against it, eyes half-closed, then took it in his mouth again. I grabbed the back of his head and pushed in, rudely, violently. He whimpered and jerked hard against my leg, so hard that I had to move my other foot back to brace myself. One of his hands abruptly left my ass and flew down to his cock, covering and stroking it but not wrapping around it, so it still had contact with my leg. _I really hope no one sees us_ , I thought. _Or hears us. But oh my god, I hardly even care, I just want to get off with you, and get you off, right here, right now_.

I bit the arm holding me up against the wall and tried to hold out until he came. I had to help him somehow. “Come on baby, come for me,” I gasped. “I wanna see you come with my cock in your mouth. I wanna feel you coming for me, on your knees, with your legs spread.”  
  
I felt awkward saying those things, but he made a small keening sound and his hand fluttered and his hips hammered against me, his other hand leaving my ass to dig into my thigh so hard he must have bruised it. He sucked hard but his mouth didn’t move, and then he arched up against me, shuddering and silent, letting out a muffled shout as he collapsed back.  
  
I tried to get down on my knees to kiss him, but he pushed me back up and rubbed something wet all over my— _oh, so that’s why my leg isn’t a mess. That’s—that should be gross. Why is that not gross. You know why_. And then his mouth was sinking back down over me, and I couldn't stop and I was coming in his mouth, down his throat, and he swallowed it all and licked me clean.  
  
I sank down to my knees and pressed my forehead against his, pulling him into my arms. He gave me a little smile but then ducked his head. “Hey,” I said. “What’s wrong?”  
  
He looked up slightly, making a noncommittal sound, and I took hold of his chin and gently tilted his face up. He didn’t seem upset, so I kissed him. He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed and responded. I was starting to get the idea of what the problem was, so I licked his lips and then slowly probed his mouth with my tongue. He submitted with a sigh, moving his hips forward to meet mine, and I held him tighter. “Let’s go to your room now,” I whispered. “Do you want to?”  
  
He nodded. We stood up and did up our pants, and I slipped my hand into his. He gave me a look of sheer panic, but then squeezed it and wouldn’t let go.  
  
We walked a very short distance, not meeting anyone on the way, and I waited while he punched in his code. He took my hand again and pulled me inside. His room was the mirror image of mine, but neater, and it smelled subtly different. He looked up at the top bunk, and I realized he must be wondering how I was going to fit up there with him. “Do you want me to pull the mattress down?” I asked.  
  
He nodded.  
  
I wrestled it to the floor, pillow, covers and all, uncovering some interesting items underneath that I didn’t think I should take the time to look at.  
  
He pushed the desk over to the corner, pushed the mattress up against the wall, then got up on the bottom bunk to get something. When he came down he lifted up the covers and sat down on the mattress with his back against the wall, then patted the spot next to him. I got down there with him and he settled the covers over our laps, leaving our boots sticking out onto the floor. I put my arm around him, and he leaned against me, then opened what turned out to be a metal flask and took a swig. It smelled pungent.  
  
He offered it to me, and I took a sip to be polite, then choked.  
  
He grinned.  
  
“What is this?” I sputtered.  
  
He shrugged. “Stole it.”  
  
For a second I thought he was saying “Stolit,” which must be the name of some kind of Russian booze. I’ve never had vodka this bad though. Then I realized he was speaking English, and laughed. “You get what you pay for, I guess.”  
  
He smiled, and took another swig.  
  
I kissed his cheek.  
  
He eyed me sideways, then sternly offered me the flask. “On Colonial shuttle, rotgut steals YOU.”  
  
“I’m already drunk,” I complained.  
  
“What? From one sip?”  
  
“From you,” I whispered, and kissed him before he could make fun of me again. I made it deep and thorough, and he moaned and clutched at my neck, but once we broke off he sat back and took another long swig. “This is why I have to drink—you’re such a sap.”  
  
_Ouch_. “How does that follow?” I said stiffly.  
  
He actually chugged it this time, then unsteadily replaced the cap and dropped the flask on the blanket next to him. He climbed onto my lap, straddling me. “I’m sposta keep you in line, you’re sposta stay in line, we could have a good time.” He touched my nose. “You keep messing everything up. I mean. You keep mixing it around. I mean. You put things in there that aren’t supposed to be in there.” He paused and snickered. “That sounds dirty.”  
  
I didn’t laugh. “You’re the one who keeps putting me in that position.” _I just wanted you to tie me down and slice me up, dammit. So I wouldn’t have to think anymore._  
  
He looked at me, eyes slightly unfocused. “I think I’m talking to myself.”  
  
Oh. “Well talk to me instead.”  
  
He buried his face in my shoulder. “I don’t wanna talk.”  
  
“Okay.” I stroked his hair, and after a moment began to rub his neck.  
  
He sighed dreamily. “Oh marsh, that’s so nice—oh shit.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Never mi—oh fuck it. I gave you a name.”  
  
“You uh—you did?”  
  
“Yeah, you were all marshmallowy, not in the body but in the way you were so—so—I can’t words right now. You were so surprised when I pulled a knife on you, like no one ever did it before. And you had those soft eyes and you just…melted when I played with you.”  
  
I didn’t know how to respond to that.  
  
“No one ever does that. They get scared but they don’t get sweet. But then I decided it wasn’t a good name because you weren’t really soft, but it was stuck in my head so I called you Marsh instead. Like a…salt marsh. With birds and frogs and things. I know that’s weird too.”  
  
I rolled it around in my head. Marsh the Martian. “I like the sound of it, but it’s still kind of…squishy.”  
  
“No, that’s not the point! It’s…alive. And complicated.”  
  
I smiled, and stroked his hair. “Are you sure you’re not sweet?”  
  
“I am NOT sweet! I’m bitter. And I bite.” He demonstrates.  
  
“You certainly do. You’re a biter.”  
  
“You make it sound like I’m a puppy,” he complains.  
  
“You’re acting like a puppy.”  
  
“I will CUT YOU.”  
  
“Wouldn’t you rather wait until you’re sober?”  
  
“Fuck you.”  
  
“I mean, it would probably be more fun. And less of a mess.”  
  
“Maybe I would LIKE more of a mess.”  
  
“No you wouldn’t, you’re very neat. Much neater than I am.”  
  
He eyed me. “How did you know?”  
  
“You’re not the only one with eyes, you know.”  
  
“Great, I thought I was stalking you and you were secretly stalking me all along.” He flopped down on the mattress and rested his head on my lap, pushing the covers aside.  
  
“I was not _stalking_ you, I just noticed you—wait, you were stalking me?”  
  
“Just for that one day,” he yawned. “It was just business.”  
  
“Business?!”  
  
“Yeah, I had to make sure you weren’t going to blab to Command. About my stabbing you.”  
  
“What would you have done if I was?”  
  
“Dunno. Grabbed you in the hall and given you a blowjob?”  
  
My face got hot, and I felt the rest of my blood rush to a more southerly location. He must have felt it under his face, because he twisted up to smirk at me. I decided to change the subject. “So. What do I call _you_?”

  
 ***

  
_Oh fuck. That question again._ I can’t actually ask him to call me Stabanov, that’s a joke name. “I dunno. I haven’t thought of anything yet.”  
  
“Kasimir called you Mr. E.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“That guy who talked to me in the gym. And in the hallway.”  
  
“You talked to him about me?”  
  
“Well I tried not to, but he kept asking about you. I didn’t say much of anything, though—that’s why he called you that.”  
  
I cross my arms. “I don’t like him. He’s trying to get into your pants.” He also looks like my stepfather, if my stepfather were younger and thinner and about a foot taller.  
  
Marsh looks surprised, then says, “You know, I would have said you were crazy, but after a few minutes ago…”  
  
“What?!”  
  
“Yes! He actually hit on me while I was looking for your room just now. He has a boyfriend. I can’t understand it. They’re so close.”  
  
I sit up, Yelena suddenly in my hand, and the room spins. “I will slit his fucking throat.”  
  
Marsh lays a hand on my arm. “Whoa, whoa, he only asked. No need for that.”  
  
“He only _needs_ one kidney.”  
  
“You don’t _need_ to spend the rest of your life in jail.”  
  
“Tch, five years at most. He’ll start it.”  
  
“You are SCARING me. Stop it. Put that away.”  
  
I hiss at him reflexively, but slide Yelena back in my boot and let him pull me onto his lap and wrap his arms around me. I mean, I can’t really complain about sitting on Marsh’s lap. He kisses my forehead, then my cheek, and I lean against him and pet his chest to try to calm down. I’m suddenly exhausted. “Let’s lie down.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
I curl around him and rest my head on his chest. He reaches up and rubs my neck again, and I climb on top of him so he can do it more easily with both hands. “Marsh why are you so _nice_.”  
  
“Is that a complaint? Should I stop being nice?”  
  
“No no don’t stop. I just don’t know why. It doesn’t make sense.”  
  
“Why wouldn’t I be?”  
  
“I wasn’t nice to you.”  
  
“Well….you were eventually.”  
  
“But you were nice FIRST.”  
  
“I don’t know…I just like you, I guess.”  
  
My heart clenches. “But WHY?”  
  
“Aagh. Do we have to analyze everything? You are such an introspective drunk.”  
  
“Better than some other kinds of drunk.”  
  
“That’s true.”  
  
His hands move from my neck to my shoulders, and I sigh and mumble, “Don’t look a gift backrub in the mouth.”  
  
He cracks up, and then I do too.  
  
I immediately ignore my own advice by whining, “But you make me feel so good and it doesn’t make any sense, no one ever makes me feel good like that.” A little voice tells me I am going to regret this _so_ _hard_ in the morning, and I squash it.  
  
“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry. I wish someone had.”  
  
“Don’t CALL me that,” I snap reflexively. I’m such a liar, I want him to call me that. It’s just that it’s painful.  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“I should tell you something you can call me but I can’t think of anything. Maybe you should think of something.”  
  
“That’s a big responsibility.”  
  
“You’re a big boy, you can handle it.”  
  
“What if I give you a name you don’t like?”  
  
“I’ll tell you to give me a different one.”  
  
He thinks. “Is this a private name, or something I can call you in front of other people?”  
  
“You don’t call me ANYTHING in front of other people, I’m supposed to be intimidating you.”  
  
“So that out there in the hallway, is that how you usually intimidate people?”  
  
“FUCK YOU. Yes. I give intimidation blowjobs. Fear my deadly mouth.”  
  
“Oh, I do. I mean, look at me. I’ve been felled.”  
  
I snort. “You left out a syllable.”  
  
He thinks. “Two syllables.”  
  
I count in my head. “Oh, yeah.” We start laughing again.  
  
Marsh stops rubbing my shoulders and moves on to my back. I suddenly remember falling to my knees, stuffing his cock in my mouth, rubbing up against him, wanting all of him at once. I’m out of control, and it frightens me. I bite his shoulder, and he yelps.  
  
“What’d you do that for?”  
  
“I just bite sometimes, remember?”  
  
“Give a guy a little warning, why don’t you?”  
  
“That wouldn’t be any fun, would it?” He’s not rubbing my back anymore. Maybe that was a bad move on my part. “Sorry. I just get—impulsive sometimes.”  
  
“Hmph.”  
  
I kiss the spot where I bit. “Don’t be mad. Please. I can’t take it right now.” I am going to _stab_ myself when I’m sober.  
  
“Aww, ok.” He strokes my back. After a while he says, “I wonder if I should call you after a landscape feature, to match my name. I don’t know many of them, though. Mountain? Hill? Desert? Lake?”  
  
“Look some up,” I mumble into his chest.  
  
“Okay.” He fishes around and pulls out his tablet, propping it on my back. Tapping. “Oh, here’s some weird names for landscape features on Earth, in Britain. Meol! That’s the part of the beach that has plants in it, and animals live there too. It’s more stable, because the plants’ roots keep it in place.”  
  
“Doesn’t sound like me. Next.”  
  
He snorts, then cracks up.  
  
“What?!”  
  
“Um, the next one is ooze.”  
  
“You are not calling me OOZE. What is an ooze, anyway?”  
  
“It’s a mudflat. Whatever that is. Oh—I guess it’s like…part of the beach that’s sometimes underwater? Except it’s mud instead of sand?” He snickers again. “It says there’s a place called Ham Ooze.”  
  
“Mmm, delicious. Next.”  
  
“Holloway. That sounds nice. That means an old path where farmers took their cattle to market, for so long that it sank into the ground and turned into a sort of tunnel.”  
  
“Doesn’t sound like me either.”  
  
“No, you’re right. I don’t know how to pronounce this one…r-h-a-e-a-d-r….”  
  
“Skip it.”  
  
“It’s a waterfall. A Welsh waterfall. Oh, but there are other Welsh waterfalls. Skwud, s-q-w-d, and pistol, p-i-s-t-y-l-l. I like Sqwd.”  
  
“It sounds like squid.”  
  
“You kind of _are_ a squid.”  
  
“Why do people keep calling me by weird animal names?”  
  
“I dunno, because you’re a weird animal? Why, what else have people called you?”  
  
“I don’t wanna talk about it. Anyway, can you imagine calling me 'Squid' while we’re, umm…”  
  
“Uh…no, you’re right. That wouldn’t work.” Marsh consults the screen again. “Erratic. That sounds like erotic.”  
  
“Ha. What’s that?”  
  
“It’s a boulder that a glacier carried far away from its original bedrock and then left there on top of completely different types of stone. Sometimes they’re perched on top of little tiny rocks because the rock under them wore away.”  
  
“That sounds more like me.”  
  
He kisses the top of my head. “You can perch on me.”  
  
I start to bite him again, then stop myself. “What’s the next one?”  
  
“Clint and gryke.”  
  
“One sounds like a cowboy, one sounds like an insult. Next.”  
  
“Glyder, g-l-y-d-e-r. In German they’re called felsenmeer, which means 'sea of rocks.' They’re these—landscapes of giant sharp slabs of broken rock. Some of them stick up, some are in piles.” He shows me the picture. It’s so stark and angry and broken and unyielding, it makes my mouth water. I want to get up on there.  
  
“I like that. A lot. I’m not sure about the actual name though.”  
  
“Hmm, okay. Ait, or eyot. That’s an island in a river.”  
  
“Eh.”  
  
“Zawn. That’s when there’s a cave in a cliff by the sea, but the roof falls in and so there’s this narrow canyon cut into the cliff that goes inland, kind of like a hallway with water at the bottom.”  
  
“I kind of like that one. It sounds like a cartoon villain.”  
  
“Zawn! Your evil plan will never succeed!”  
  
“Ah, but it already has!”  
  
“Noooooooooo.”  
  
“Tell me the other ones.”  
  
“There’s just one left. Stòr, like going to the store except without the e, and the o has a backwards accent mark over it. Or with two Rs and no accent mark.”  
  
“I don’t know if I want to be a store.”  
  
“Gaelic for broken tooth. It’s a bit of mountain that sticks up out of the ground like a tooth. Wow, some of these actually look like knives.” He shows me.  
  
“Oooh. They do. It looks like the place where Zawn would build his lair.”  
  
He laughs. “It does!”  
  
I take a deep breath. “Ok, I think I like that one. But you can use any of the good ones too. It doesn’t really matter anyway, we’re going to get task names soon.”  
  
“Stòr,” he says thoughtfully. It sounds different from store, but I can’t say how. “I’m probably pronouncing it wrong.”  
  
“Not that I know or care, but you could look it up.”  
  
He taps away for a couple of minutes. “Actually, I’m….not finding anything that confirms that article’s definition. The Gaelic dictionaries do have stòr but it just means store, or hoard or source. But…I am finding a place CALLED Storr, with the two Rs, that has those rock formations, so maybe the formation was actually named after the place and whoever wrote the article got it wrong. Or maybe I’m just bad at research.”  
  
“Or maybe it’s that we don’t have internet in space so you’re relying on whatever bullshit they felt like putting on the ship’s intranet.”  
  
“Oh. Or that.”  
  
I stretch. “Oh for fuck’s sake, if you’re going to agonize over it just say it in Russian instead. I can tell you how to pronounce it.”  
  
He taps. “Umm…I’m not getting anything from the translator. Do you know what it is?”  
  
“Of course not, I just heard of it. This is taking TOO LONG. Just call me Skala, that’s the closest thing.”  
  
“That sounds better,” he says after a moment. “It makes sense to have something in Russian, too.”  
  
I roll his nipple between my fingers to make him hiss. “Let’s test it out.”  
  
He pants, “But you’re drunk! Aren’t you?”  
  
“So?”  
  
“I can’t have sex with you if you’re drunk.”  
  
“Why not? I’m not THAT drunk, everything still works.”  
  
“It wouldn’t be right.”  
  
“But I’m the one who’s starting it!” What is wrong with him? Am I annoying? Am I ugly when I’m drunk?  
  
“That doesn’t matter. You might regret it later.”  
  
“The only thing I’m going to REGRET is being a soppy blabbermouth. I would still have had sex with you if I were sober.”  
  
He thinks. “It still doesn’t seem right though.”  
  
“Ugh! I don’t care! No one else cares! Why do you care?”  
  
“Other people do care. But even if they didn’t, I just do.”  
  
I twist his nipple again, and feel movement against my hip. “Your dick doesn’t care.”  
  
“Well, it doesn’t tell me what to do.”  
  
“Right,” I spit, and get up. “I have to piss anyway.” I stomp off to the bathroom in a fine mood.  
  
When I open the door again there's a quick flap of the covers, followed by a suspicious stillness. I stroll up to him and drawl, “Everything okay over there?”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“No one else telling you what to do under there?”  
  
“Under where?”  
   
I sweep down and pull back the covers before he can stop me. “Really Marsh. How long did you think I would take?”  
  
He blushes. “I—I don’t know. I couldn’t think.”  
  
“Are you _sure_ your dick doesn’t tell you what to do?”  
  
He sighs, and closes his eyes. “Maybe it does, sometimes.”  
  
“I think you should keep going.”  
  
“What?” His eyes fly open.  
  
“Well, you’re not touching me, are you? My precious modesty is safe. I even have all my clothes on.”  
  
“I—uh—well—I guess—“  
  
I lean down and breathe into his ear, “Just do it, Marsh.”  
  
His eyes fall closed and his hips move up.  
  
“That’s right. Now move your hand.”  
  
He turns his face away, taking a shuddering breath, and obeys.  
  
I stroke his hair and tell him he’s a good boy. “Actually, pull your pants down. And take your shirt and jacket off. I want to see you.”  
  
He obeys, still keeping his face averted.  
  
“Look at me,” I say. He turns his head reluctantly, and his eyes widen when he sees Yelena. I know I said I wouldn’t use my knives during sex. Fuck it, I guess I lied. I told Yelena to close her eyes, anyway. I draw her blade slowly down my neck and chest, then skip over to my leg so she won’t have to endure anything too obscene. Galya is enthusiastically shouting, “EWWW YOU PERV,” which is why I didn’t pick her. I just didn’t have the heart to subject Katya to this. I really need to get a new knife, one that doesn’t have a name.  
  
Marsh is watching me, breathing quietly through his mouth. His hand is moving slowly. It’s so hard not to touch him. Maybe I can touch him a _little_. I run the blade over his shoulder, and he breathes harder. He’s still bright red.  
  
“Do you like that?” I whisper.  
  
He nods.  
  
I draw it up to his neck, along his throat, up to his ear. He shudders and moans, closing his eyes. “Tell me.”  
  
“I like it.” His hand moves faster.  
  
“Keep looking at me.”  
  
He opens his eyes, swallows. “It’s so hard to do this.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“It’s—it’s—I’m just—embarrassed.”  
  
“Do you want to stop?”  
  
“No,” he gasps, and closes his eyes again. He opens them immediately, wincing. “Sorry, reflex.”  
  
“Have you never done this before?”  
  
“Um, not with anyone watching. Or—knifing.”  
  
“I’m not knifing you. When I knife you, you’ll _know_.”  
  
“You know what I mean.”  
  
I twist the blade so the edge is to his throat. He inhales. “Want to keep arguing?” I whisper in his ear.  
  
He whimpers, then pants, “If it gets you to do that, maybe.”  
  
I grab his hair and force his head back, pressing the edge in almost hard enough to break the skin. “Cheeky bastard. I should cut you for that.”  
  
“Oh, I wish you would,” he moans, hand moving even faster. I turn to watch for a moment, and when I turn back he’s looking at me. “You’re ambidextrous, aren’t you? You just changed hands for that.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“That’s hot too.”  
  
“You’re weird, Marsh.”  
  
He laughs. “You—ha—you like me weird.”  
  
“So what if I do.” I twirl the blade around and draw it down to his collarbone to make him moan again. “I like it when you’re loud. Be louder.”  
  
“Oh. Ohhh I—I don’t know if—“  
  
“You can do it. Just let the noises you’re already making get louder.”  
  
Marsh closes his eyes, and I let him because he needs to focus. He pants louder, and soon there are _ohhhs_ coming out of his mouth and his hips are jerking up in time with his hand as he strokes himself.

“You’re my good boy, you’re my good sexy boy—“  
  
“Oh fuck yeah, oh oh oh, will you kiss me, please, please—“  
  
I stick Yelena into the mattress. “Say my name and I will.”  
  
“I um, what is it again I can’t remember—“  
  
I wait.  
  
“Skala, Skala, please, please kiss me, please—“  
  
I cut him off, my mouth crushing his, my hand on his jaw. I fuck his mouth with my tongue, and then just revel in the elastic strength and softness of his lips. He’s struggling and tensing, and I pull away to watch him because I know he’s about to come. He looks at me again, face pleading as he lets out short ragged gasps. I stroke his hair with one hand and twist his nipple with the other, and his free hand clenches my thigh in a bruising grip as he convulses and cries out, and I feel like my heart is bursting open, he’s so beautiful and trusting, he could kill me with one hand but he literally rolled over and exposed his vulnerable underbelly to me, just to me. My vision is blurring and swimming and oh fuck no.  
  
I cover his eyes and lean down to kiss him again. I meant to do it briefly but I get caught up in the feel of his lips again, sweet and slow and yielding this time. Finally I give his hair a little pat and get up to go get a washcloth. I press it to my face before I bring it out to him, avoiding the mirror.  
  
I sit down next to him and gently clean him off, then rescue Yelena from the mattress (or vice versa) and tuck her back in my boot. I lie down on top of him and pull the covers over us, resting my head in the hollow of his shoulder.  
  
“You’re hard,” he whispers after a minute. “I feel bad now, for…”  
  
“It’s okay. I don’t want to do anything about it right now.” If I do I’ll cry and I won’t be able to stop.  
  
“Why not? Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine. Just….shhhh.”  
  
His arms wrap around me, and I feel my eyes prickle again. Why are you like this, Marsh? You can’t be real.  
  
***

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man, this nicknaming thing was so hard. NOTHING feels right for Deimos. I think Skala could, eventually, although for English speakers it’s a bit of a problem because we’re conditioned to think of names ending in “a” as feminine. Not that Deimos isn’t feminized constantly both in canon and in fandom, but I would rather not add to that. 
> 
> Incidentally just after writing the bit where they figure out his nickname, I watched the episode of Once Upon a Time where Ruby and Dorothy give each other nicknames, and their tough-talking exterior-corset love was so adorable. 
> 
> Kasimir and Pavel, oh god. I seriously meant them to be disposable background scenery but they did not agree with that. They are currently gunning for their own story, or at least Pavel is. You would think it would be Kasimir but Pavel says he talks enough.
> 
> If you haven't read the story before this and you're wondering why Deimos is talking so freely, the answer is that he's usually whispering. In my version he only has trouble speaking out loud, and even that is psychosomatic.


End file.
